Halloween Sweets: Dramione Style
by Lady Cailan
Summary: A little bit of this, and a little bit of that all tossed into a cauldron of Dramione! All ratings, Draco/Hermione pairing.  Written for the DramioneDrabble 2011 Halloween Challenge on LiveJournal.
1. For Hagrid

_As part of an ongoing effort to keep my creativity flowing (and to take a break from the heaviness of my long fiction) I'm participating in several challenges on Live Journal. This is the first of, I think, three. It's the 2011 Halloween challenge at DramionDrabble. The idea is that a prompt will be posted, and a story has to be written using that prompt. Quite simple. There should be seven mini-stories when I'm done - if I can get them all written in time. The first prompt was niffler. Drop me some love guys - this can be challenging, lol! And, I love reviews. Thanks for reading!_

_LCailan  
><em>

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><p><em><strong>For Hagrid<strong>_

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><p>The sun was setting behind the castle as two people moved towards the Forbidden Forest, their feet crunching under the leaves that had fallen from the wide, treed canopy.<p>

"Can you move any slower, Malfoy? I'd like to be back before the Halloween feast!"

"Actually, Granger, I think I can. And what's the huge deal about a meal in the Great Hall? Last time I checked, you're there breakfast, lunch and supper!"

Hermione turned up her nose at him.

"Oh, so you've been watching me?"

He flushed a pink color, which wasn't altogether unpleasant. In fact, Hermione thought it was a nice change from the pale, pinched face she was used to. He looked rather nice with some color.

"I can't help that you've got the bushiest head of hair I've ever seen! It's beyond unsightly, Granger. Has that oaf, Hagrid been giving you grooming tips?"

"Piss off, why don't you?"

Hermione stomped ahead of him, until her heavy school robes got caught on one of the bushes. Draco found himself smirking, but offered a helping hand.

"Can't quite get away from me, can you, Granger?"

She ignored him, going deeper into the forest, hoping to finish the awful task at hand, so she could get back to the Great Hall and her friends. If only Hagrid hadn't been her friend! If only Malfoy hadn't had to serve detention! It was the most awful day.

"Hurry up!"

Her shriek made him laugh, and he hurried to catch up with her.

"Tell me, how did you get roped into this? It's my detention, but, surely the Gryffindor Princess would never do something heinous enough to warrant that?"

"If you must know, I'm doing this for Hagrid. Because he's my friend."

"Your sentiment makes me want to puke."

"That's why you won't ever have any friends!"

"No, I won't have any friends like you, which is quite fine by me."

After this, neither student spoke, and Draco followed Hermione all the way into the Forbidden Forest, where there were only glimmers of light from the setting sun.

"There!"

The Gryffindor pointed with triumph.

"See that? That little hill is how you know a niffler's burrow."

"Oh, good," Draco drawled with sarcasm. "Go ahead and dig."

Hermione turned around, folding her arms across her chest and glaring at him.

"This is _your detention_, Malfoy. So that means _you_ dig!"

Draco's face was marred with a scowl, but he hid an amused smile at her vehemence. It was rather a nice change from her usual superiority complex.

Just as his hands touched the dirt, one of the creatures skittered through the trees, and stopped a few feet from him, watching with round, beady eyes.

"Ugly little things those are," he muttered.

"Funny, as they're cuter than you are."

"Your sense of humor has me in stitches, Granger."

Niffler and boy studied one another.

"So, how do I catch him?"

Hermione considered the question as she lay down the small wooden box they would use to carry the creature back to Hagrid.

"They're friendly. Just be nice," she said, hiding a smile. "And walk slowly."

She thought it would be funny to see him chase after the little furry creature, even though it wasn't necessary.

"I'll find some berries for him to eat, while you…do what you have to do."

Smirking, Hermione moved away, giving herself a full view of the mayhem to come. Much to her disappointment, the niffler in question was quite tame under the circumstances, and Draco managed to capture it with minimal effort.

_Bloody hell. Stupid prat will always have it easy, won't he?_

She began scrounging the leaf-littered ground, wondering what the niffler would eat.

Oh, well. At least we're nearly finished.

Holding a handful of berries, Hermione straightened up and looked in Draco's direction. She paused, her mouth open to say something snide, but wasn't able to speak for a few seconds.

Draco had knelt down on the ground and slipped off the silver ring he always wore – the one with the Malfoy family crest – and was dangling it for the little creature, who was trying to get it away from him. It was a game, Hermione realized.

_He's playing with it!_

There was something so unassuming about Malfoy in that moment, his smirk, and the way he was playing with the creature. Hermione thought of her father and the family dog. And the scene before her made her feel warm, in spite of the falling autumn temperatures. A smile formed on her lips, and she bit her lip to keep from laughing as she began to walk back towards Malfoy and the niffler.

When he saw her, the smile disappeared, and he snatched his ring back, ending the game that Hermione knew he thought she hadn't seen.

"Wretched, nasty creature," he spat, his lips forming a sneer. "Can we leave now, Granger?"

Hermione gave him a knowing smile.

"I saw what you were doing!"

"What are you talking about?"

"You were playing with that niffler!"

"I was not!"

"Malfoy, I saw you! You were dangling your ring for it, weren't you? You knew nifflers like shiny, little things. It was cute."

"I was tormenting it, Granger!"

"I say you have a bigger heart than you want to admit."

"We won't ever speak of this again."

When she turned to gaze on him, his cheeks were pink. She found herself smiling once more.

"Come on, Malfoy, it's not so bad."

"What's not so bad?"

"Having a heart."

He stopped just as they reached the clearing that led to the castle. The sun was now behind the horizon, and the sky was a brilliant mix of purples, blues and pinks.

"It's Halloween. This is the night when all of us pretend we are something we're not. So, I pretended to have a heart, and you're going to pretend you never saw it!"

Hermione giggled.

"That's silly, Malfoy."

"Granger, I'm warning you!"

They stared at one another, both trying to hold back smirks.

"Come on, it was cute!"

With a groan, Malfoy stalked away from her, holding the small box that contained the niffler.

"You insufferable, annoying, bushy-haired bint!" he snapped over his shoulder.

"You big softie!" she called out after him, hesitating only a split second.

Then, she dashed after him.


	2. Candy Corn

_I appreciate the reviews, guys. Prompt number two was 'candy'. This one's short, but I loved writing it! Reviews are love!_

_LCailan_

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><p><strong>Candy Corn<strong>

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><p>The bowl sat between them on the wide, wooden table.<p>

"It's called candy corn," Hermione said, lifting up a single piece between thumb and pointer finger to show him, and Draco gazed at it as if not certain what it really was.

"Of course, only a _Muggle_ would name a sweet after a _vegetable._"

She smirked, and he watched with growing interest as she ate the morsel, biting off the white tip, nibbling on the orange middle and then popping the yellow remainder into her mouth with relish. She took another, finishing it just as quickly, and Draco felt a delicious stirring below as she licked her lips in delight.

"And only a pureblood _snob_ would be silly enough not to try one," she replied with a happy smile, reaching for a third and waving it in front of his face teasingly.

Draco scowled at the offending confection.

"That's because they look _atrocious _and taste _disgusting._"

Hermione bit the kernel in half slowly, enjoying the way the sugary treat melted on her tongue. She studied the other half thoughtfully.

"Actually, I happen to think they're lovely little kernels of tasty Halloween cheer."

Draco smirked as she finished her candy.

"And I happen to think you're off your trolley."

Hermione smiled and took a fourth, running her tongue along it.

"The top tastes like vanilla, and the middle like honey."

Draco wanted to scoff, but it was hard to do when you couldn't _breathe._

"And what, pray tell, does the last bit taste like?"

Hermione smiled brilliantly, her eyes twinkling knowingly.

"Like marshmallow, of course!"

His glare was one of disbelief and she shrugged, offering a pout.

"I guess you won't know though, since you're too wimpy to try one."

Draco would not allow anyone, not even Hermione Granger, to think he was _wimpy._ Glaring at her, he snatched a handful of candy from her bowl and shoved it into his mouth.

"Just as I suspected," he muttered, his mouth full. "This candy is repulsive."

Hermione stood and smirked, clutching the bowl protectively.

"Well, I suppose there's no accounting for taste, is there? That's all right. I suppose my candy corn and I will just go on up to bed."

With that, Hermione turned around and walked out of the small kitchen, trying not to laugh at his bewildered expression.

Draco wondered how a woman could be so innocent and provocative at the same time and then decided that it had to be the candy corn. And that's how he found her a few moments later – lounging in bed, with the bowl of candy on her lap and a come-hither look on her face.

He took the room in three strides, finding himself a bit more bothered by the way she ran the tiny piece of candy along her bottom lip, her eyes glowing in the dim light of the lamp by their bed.

He ran a hand through his hair, riveted by the way her luscious mouth worked over the treat.

"Vanilla, honey and marshmallow, you said? Maybe I was a bit hasty."

Hermione reached into her half-empty bowl, bringing the triangular, colorful sweet up to his parted lips, fascinated.

"Somehow, I knew you'd see things my way."

Without replying, he leaned down and pressed his lips over hers in a possessive, sugar-laced kiss. Hermione gave him a knowing smile.

"Not as repulsive as you thought, are they?" She purred.

He climbed over her and onto the bed, cradling her body against his.

"I'd say I'm rather partial to chocoballs, Granger. But then again, everything tastes better from your lips."

He leaned in and kissed her once more and took his time to savor what he happened to believe was the sweetest Halloween treat of all.


	3. When Draco Comes

_Third prompt was "vampire". This chapter carries an 'R' rating for some sensuality and imagery that may be disturbing to some readers. _

_LCailan_

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><p><strong>When Draco Comes<strong>

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><p>Samhain night has finally fallen, and Draco is here. He comes as darkness falls, <em>always<em> on this night, when the veil between those of us still living is thinnest and those who have passed into the beyond can be close once more.

The clock in my flat chimes the late hour, and I get up, moving towards the windows. It is storming outside, the wind high and the rain pelting my roof, the sound soothing to me. I put my book aside, and move to the door, where I know he will be waiting.

And he is there, tapping, the sound melding with the falling rain, his white-blond hair windblown and plastered against his wet alabaster skin. I look through the rain-streaked glass and see him; he is familiar to me, yet foreign all the same.

I open the door and bid him entrance, as I always do, and he moves with a ghostly grace. Indeed, even the golden glow of the lamps in my front room does nothing to ease the harsh purplish brushstrokes across a face of palest marble. And at first he stands, his quicksilver eyes flashing like lighting, with uncertainty and confusion, as if he wonders if this would the night I would turn him away.

Of course, I could never turn him away, I knew. He is _my_ Draco, _still_ my Draco, after all this time, and all that has changed since that year in Germany.

As he enters, dripping onto my carpet, he gazes around my flat. Often times, he is confused at first, for it is not _me_, but some sort of animalistic instinct that brings him here, as if a part of my essence is with him always. In a sense, it is true because my lifeblood- that which keeps me securely tethered in the world of the living- is the same blood that nourishes him. The dark twisted nature of the relationship that we have now is lost to me – everything always is, when Draco comes.

He walks through my flat, graceful in his deliberation and uncertainty, his long, bone-white fingers tracing along my photo frames, the wooden mantle…the knick knacks I have strewn around. It is strange that he hardly recognizes them, for many are small, insignificant reminders of the life we had once shared together…before his change.

He turns to me, his bloodless lips moving, but I cannot hear what he says because I am startled at the shock that runs through my body, awakening me. His eyes are terrifying – glimmering as if lit from within by a heat I cannot define. His gaze is molten silver, fluid, always changing, moving, and forever capturing me. I go willingly; I will never be his captive, but always his willing victim.

_I am home again,_ he whispers to me.

I am reminded again of what he has become. Words are not necessary between us, for he reads my mind the way I read the massive tomes in my library. He is one with my mind, and eternally will be. For long moments he is lost in my recollections of our previous life together. I feel him rifling through Hogwarts memories, the way he had often derided me, how we had gone our separate ways only to meet once again, a few years later, working for the Ministry. The fingers of his otherworldly mind caress the memories of how I feel in love with him, and how there had been a time when he completed my life and nothing beyond him was necessary.

And then he turns those childlike yet darkly dangerous eyes towards me, and it is as if my heartbeat begins to match the ticking of the clock, the barely-there sound of his footsteps approaching. I take his hand, and we are joined, heat and ice. We stand there for a timeless second, and I am lost to everything else, for Draco is here.

"Come," I whisper.

He allows me into his dreams- dark, bloody flashes that fill me with wanton abandon. Beautifully radiant he stands, unashamed of what I see. Intricate fantasies of seduction, desire and utter submission bloom and unfold crimson in my mind. They quicken my heart and my blood runs hot for him. And he knows I am his – always and only his.

"Come," I whisper once more, leading him by his hand to the kitchen, where he sits, watching me with those unearthly eyes.

I move to bring the bottle to the table, a bottle I keep only for when I know he will come. It is a bottle of precious ruby to sustain him, a gift I give him, and a symbol of what he will always mean to me. I remove the cork, and the barest scent is enough. I feel his thoughts shift and darken, swirl with a delicious, keening need.

_I hunger for you. Always for you._

I pour the liquid into a goblet, and am reminded for a moment of those days in school, when we would both wait for the Headmaster to lift his glass and usher in the feast. And so it is. His need is great, and his gleaming white fingers tremble around the golden goblet, but he hesitates, turning those ancient pools of silver towards me.

"Go on," I whisper, nodding, a terrific fear and strange desire swirling in the most shadowed parts of me. "Go on, it's mine. It's for you."

That is all the encouragement he needs, and he lifts the goblet to his ivory lips. The scent in the rain-saturated air is heady and cloying – it is bitter, metallic…an organic scent that drives him wild and terrifies me. He drinks and is lost in ecstasy and all I can do is watch, feeling a speechless envy. It is all he wants; it is all he needs.

And I burn for him, as I do always. Eternally.

The elixir changes him, and I can _feel_ it. His face is no longer the color of my finest china, but the color of summers remembered, memories of the sun, and of life, warmth and the living. He is once again the man I had met working for the Ministry, both of us assigned to the Department of International Magical Cooperation. He is the man I had fallen in love with those few years before our trip to Germany, and the Black Forest. It is there that the change had happened; there that he became what he is now.

He advances on me, his passion almost animalistic, and then his marbled lips are upon mine, cool as ice, but soon they warm, as one need is replaced by another. I hold him close, drowning in the desire that he always brings out in me when he comes.

_Miss me?_

The thought is almost a wry chuckle, and I can see the hint of a smirk on his ghostly face. I sigh. "Yes, oh, yes."

Sheer threads of incoherent thoughts flicker in the depths of my passion-drunk soul. The scent of my blood lingers on his fingers as they trace the lines of my face, and he strokes my lips. I open my mouth and it tastes strange, metallic. The dark desire swirls within me.

"Change me…why won't you change me…?"

The whisper is futile, for he never will. He never does.

He takes me to the heights of passion, the sensations and his icy closeness so delicious, so agonizing. My nerves crackle beneath my skin, the pleasure like white-hot lighting coursing through my body until he is finished.

And when I wake, I am alone, for Draco is gone as if he has never been here. I only know I feel weak and helpless, and the pleasure pain of where he has tasted me prickles the sensitive skin of my neck. I move to the window, and beyond it I see the early morning on the first day of November. Only when I realize I am alone again do I start to move forward with the first day of the rest of my life.

I no longer work for the Ministry; I had stopped shortly after what had happened in the Black Forest. I adjust my uniform and head out into the wet morning – I still use our old portkey – the one that Draco had created from an old, gold watch. Soon enough I am standing in front of the small office that houses the Society for the Tolerance of Vampires. Who better than me to lead such a group?

He is feared by many, but to me, he is eternal love. He is loathed by others, but he is my dark stranger, a dangerously erotic mingling of all my deepest passions and desires. He is my seduction, the dream of life eternal born of the mingling of flesh and blood. I am his forever, for nothing else matters when Draco comes.


	4. The Painting

_The fourth prompt was 'banshee' and 'chocolate'. This one took about four minutes, and it kind of made me laugh a little._

_LCailan_

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><p><strong>The Painting<strong>

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><p>Happy Anniversary," Draco said beaming.<p>

Hermione glanced at him curiously, holding a flat, neatly wrapped package on her lap.

"It's not our anniversary until tomorrow," she said, but it was impossible not to smile.

"I know...Halloween night," he said, leaning in to kiss her a moment. When he pulled away, he gazed pointedly at the package on her lap.

"It's not going to open itself, you know," he told her pointedly.

Grinning with anticipation, Hermione pulled on the bright green ribbon bound around the silver wrapping paper. Draco watched her with the excitement of a little boy.

"I worked on it myself," he said proudly. "Just like one of those Muggle painters you like so much."

Hermione beamed at the mention and ripped into the wrapping paper, pushing it aside. Nestled amongst the most delicate of tissue paper lay a beautiful wooden frame and within that frame was a garishly painted picture.

"Amazing," Hermione breathed.

Indeed it was. It was the most amazingly hideous piece of art she had ever seen.

"What do you think?"

She raised her eyebrows for a moment, and then wrinkled them the next.

"I've never seen anything like it."

She looked up at her husband.

"It's a banshee….eating…chocolate frogs?" she asked, uncertain of the strange, green-faced creature in the painting, but almost sure that the creature held in one of its hands a half-eaten chocolate confection.

Draco grinned.

"That's right."

"And it's a wedding anniversary present celebrating our love?"

"Well, love is not love without a banshee eating chocolate."

Hermione burst out laughing and then put the painting aside before climbing onto his lap.

"I don't know about banshees and chocolate but I do know that love is not love without you."

He brushed his lips against hers.

"You hate the painting."

"But I love you."

"I can't believe you hate the painting."

Hermione leaned down to press her lips against his, giving him a deep, searching kiss, the painting forgotten. When she pulled away, Draco cocked an eyebrow towards the strange piece of art.

"So, where do you think we'll put it?" he asked impishly. Hermione made a face.

"I suggest the rubbish bin?"

"You cheeky witch."

She squealed when he picked her up.

"You kiss better than you paint, Mr. Malfoy!"

He offered a laugh, bringing her back down to the ground.

"And I love you so much," she whispered, her eyes lighting up as she gazed up at him with adoration. Draco smirked.

"Next year, I'll stick to what I'm good at then, Mrs. Malfoy."

Then he leaned down to kiss her again. This time, he didn't pull away.


	5. First Snowfall

_Thanks to everyone who is checking out these little drabbles. The latest prompt was 'broomstick,' 'lantern' and 'mummy'. Enjoy!_

_LCailan_

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><p><strong>First Snowfall<strong>

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><p>Hermione poked him, her eyes darting from the prone shape in their bed to the windows on the other side of the room.<p>

"Wake up."

Draco groaned.

"Go away, Granger."

She smirked, wondering how many more years he'd call her that before he realized her name was _Hermione. _It always slipped out, especially when he was grumpy. Which she knew he would be.

"No seriously, wake _up."_

Draco rolled over and sat up, glaring at Hermione in a way that happened to be just as cute as it was menacing.

"_Hermione,"_ he spat. "I just spent ten hours a day for the last fourteen days organizing files for that old biddy in the house-elf relocation office just because you _asked _me to. It's my day _off,_ and by God, if I want to _sleep_ every last second away I'm going to _do_ that! If I'm going to reinvent myself as a do-gooder wizard, I at least deserve some proper _sleep!_"

Then he flung himself against his pillow petulantly as Hermione stood, hands on her hips, her lip caught between her teeth.

"Draco, _come on!"_

She pulled on his sleeve, and Draco launched himself back up to a sitting position, angry now.

"I swear, _woman,_ if this isn't important-"

She flung open the window that faced the street, her brown eyes sparkling.

"Look, it's first snowfall!"

Draco stopped fighting, amused at her eagerness.

Falling in love with Hermione Granger had been much easier than trying to understand the small, often insignificant moments that made her happy. It was getting easier, but Draco still struggled sometimes. But the snow thing…well, he _did_ understand that. He rather enjoyed it in fact, although he would never admit such a thing. They stood side by side, watching the faint, white flakes falling, glittering in the light of the lanterns outside just as darkness was starting to fall around them.

"Come on," she said pulling on his hand. "Get your robes, it's time."

It had become a tradition of sorts, at least to Draco, though this, too, he would never admit. Her childlike excitement, the silent moments of watching the diamond-like flakes falling around them, and then-

"Get that broomstick of yours!"

She was already out of sight, moving to the narrow hallway of the flat she had insisted would be perfect for the two of them even though he felt like they were always bumping into walls, the odd piece of furniture, or each other. Though the 'each other' part was not bad. Not bad at all.

"Why don't you get yours?" he yelled back staring out at the lantern-lit early evening.

"Because I don't fly!"

She returned a minute later, dressed in _his_ long, winter cloak, wearing a brilliant smile and holding his old, worn broomstick. She was glorious and Draco could deny her nothing. They stepped out onto the balcony and stood in the snow shower, both staring up at the navy sky just starting to sparkle with the faint markings of the stars.

Draco stopped looking up at the heavens, his eyes instead straying to the woman by his side. He had resented her at first, it was true. Her stupid best friend had defeated Voldemort, and he had resented having to be in the presence of the impeccable boy turned man with the scar. Having to accept that it was _Potter _who was chosen had been difficult, but having to work with him at the Ministry post-war had been _impossible._

But then again, if things hadn't happened the way they had, he would never have fallen in love with Hermione Granger.

It had been on a night like this one, of first snowfall, just a few days after All Hallows Eve that it had happened. Well, perhaps, it was when _Hermione_ had _realized_ she was in love, for Draco had known his own feelings much longer than that. And because she was Hermione, and a _girl,_ she had never forgotten that night.

And so it was that each year on the first snowfall, she would find him and drag him outside just the way they were now. She would be wearing that smile – the one that was as playful as it was content – and it would warm him in spite of the cold temperatures. She had chosen _him._ She loved _him. _She was _happy._

"Ready?" he asked, offering her the broomstick, and she rolled her eyes.

"I told you, I don't fly. You first."

Rolling his eyes, Draco graceful mounted his Nimbus, and offered her his hand.

"Your rather thin and weightless chariot awaits, my dear lady."

She could only grin at his chivalry and as he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her protectively against the warmth of his body, Hermione sighed with complete contentment.

He pushed off their balcony, sailing up towards the radiantly beautiful skies with their twinkling lights and diamond snowfall.

"Look," she gasped, never quite used to the feeling of flying, "It's trick-or-treat night!"

Draco gazed down at the city below them, seeing the Muggle children dressed like witches, cats, mummies and all manner of beasts.

"First snowfall came early this year," he said against her ear as they floated through the sky unbeknownst to the world below them.

Hermione turned her head and he got a whiff of the sweet scent of her shampoo for the briefest of moments.

"I don't mind," she told him matter-of-factly. "I love this day more than any other, and wish it would come early each year."

Her tiny hand in his, and her body wrapped so securely around him, he felt his heart melting. Gazing into her eyes, Draco pulled her closer as they sailed higher into the enchanted sky leaving the lantern lights, the children, the city behind.

"I love this!"

Her squeal rang out into the night. He laughed, feeling her heart racing against his.

He did too.


End file.
